


The Queen's English

by Cavaticarose



Series: Damn Few, and They're All Dead [7]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Medical Procedures, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11608101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavaticarose/pseuds/Cavaticarose
Summary: Karin has to tidy up a lot of wounds, including one from a veteran mercenary.





	The Queen's English

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalcolmInSpace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/gifts).



The medbay was stark bright, and the sterile chemical smell of antiseptics and medi-gel filled the confined space. Against all odds, the crew – the whole crew – came back from hell itself. As Shepard left to ‘give one last middle finger to the Illusive man,’ Mordin Solus and Karin Chakwas busied themselves with patching up the ground squad with machine-like precision. Chakwas, hands steady despite the circumstances, tended to Zaeed while he regaled her with one of his stories.

“–Even with that, I’ve never been one to mince words, Doctor. This had to be the craziest goddamn mission I’ve done, and of all people, you’re bashing on like nothing happened.” He regarded her with concern, good eye fixed on her face. “Y’sure you’re alright, love?”

“Mr. Massani, I assure you that we all know what happened. And thanks to Shepard, we were rescued from a worst-case scenario. Now for the love of God, hold still while I get this gash sorted!” She frowned as he leaned back in the chair and lifted his arm, looking at the doctor like she was the only woman in the world.

“You Alliance hacksaws are tougher than turian steel,” he muttered. He rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“Hold still.”

“Ow!” he hissed. “I mean it. My job’s easy. All a man’s got to do to earn his nut is point and shoot. But a crazy bint with a scalpel’s the scariest sight in the galaxy.”

Her nose wrinkled, and she shot a look of annoyed amusement at the veteran. “Language, Mr. Massani.” She turned his chin with a deft grasp, getting a better look at a cut earned on the Collector base. A painful red streak ran from the base of his shoulder down to his side. “If you know that word, then you know the Queen's English.” She hovered closer to the wound and inspected Miranda’s field patch-up. The operative did a decent job, but the work of a true surgeon was never done.

A tiny, hidden part of her wished she met the merc sooner, when his face scars first made their home. He was practically glued together by brute force alone, leaving deep valleys along his face. She briefly inspected one of the wounds, faded over the years.

His face twitched into a leer. “I bet that one’s older than you.”

She chuckled openly. “I sincerely doubt that.” She tapped her omni-tool and pulled up his medical chart. “I don’t much like the look of these new wounds, Mr. Massani–”

“Zaeed, for the love of it.”

She blinked. “…Zaeed. And since you can’t hold _still_ , a topical anesthesia isn’t going to suffice.” She moved away and headed to the medical stores. “In order for me to work cleanly, I’ll have to administer a numbing agent intravenously. It should only take around thirty minutes before sensation returns to normal. Other than a little prick, you won’t feel a thing,” she said, humor creeping in her voice.

“Hell if you think I’m agreeing to that,” he protested. “The only thing’s putting me under is a bottle of ryncol and a bullet to the brain. You keep your needles to yourself.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she said dryly. “As I said, it will only be for a short while, and you’ll be awake the entire time. Lie down at that station, and we can get to work straight away.”

He complied, muttering under his breath the whole way. When she approached him, lidocaine injection in hand, he frowned outright. “Are you deaf, mad woman? Get it away.”

She looked at him incredulously, then down at the needle. “Mr. Massa–” She paused at his baleful look. “Zaeed. You can’t possibly tell me you’re afraid of this old thing.” She held up the injector. “Why, you’ve already been on the ‘craziest goddamn mission you’ve done,’ if I heard you correctly. What’s a tiny little needle compared to that?”

“Don’t let the size fool you, love,” he grumbled. “The tiniest things in the galaxy pack the meanest punch, and you can’t tell me otherwise.” He raised his arm over his head, wincing as he exposed more of the angry gash. “No one says it outright, but half-crazed varrens with needles makes a merc queasier than a hanar in a hot air balloon. You come at me with that thing,” he nodded at her hand, “and I’ll be blowing chunks faster than you can say ‘hold still.’”

She frowned. She was rather fast at saying ‘hold still,’ after all.

“Why is this just now a thing?” she asked. “Heaven knows that a medical phobia would’ve come up by now.”

“I’m damn careful,” he replied, grinning wolfishly.

“Tell that to your wound,” she shot back. With a sigh, she headed back to the medicine supplies. “At the risk of my sanity, I supposed we could stick to topical. Is there not anything you trust for pain?”

“My flask.”

She sighed in exasperation. “That’s not a painkiller, that’s a… hm.” She paused, taking his words into consideration against her better judgement. “I may have…” She advanced towards her personal locker and moved the small supply of personal effects – medical books, old datapads, and stray sketches of the _Normandy_ crew – until she found it. A bottle of Serrice Ice brandy, gifted by Shepard after Karin uncharacteristically complained about the loss of her last bottle. No more than a week later, the commander held it up to her like a trophy. The prize was the bottle. The punishment was drinking half of it with Shepard.

Chakwas now held the bottle up to the grizzled merc. “This won’t take the place of a proper analgesic, but it’s bound to be better than whatever you keep in your flask.”

“You’re joking,” he replied. “There’s no way in hell I’d rob a pretty lady of a drink as nice as that.”

“You wouldn’t be robbing me,” she said crisply, ignoring the man’s turn of phrase. “Consider it a reward. All I ask is you close your eyes and count back from ten, and I can properly set that wound. Think you can do that?”

He pretended to consider the offer, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Just for you, ma’am, I’ll put up a brave front.”

“That’s the spirit,” she said back. She drew out the injector and inserted the numbing agent across the veteran’s wound. It was quick rhythmic work; prick, inject, and slight wiggle of skin until the tension in the man’s muscles relaxed and the stilted breathing eased into a steady pattern. She then moved to break the makeshift seal the medi-gel provided, exposing the rest of the damage.

“So how’d you end up a doctor, love?” Zaeed asked, averting his eyes from Chakwas’ hands as she worked.

“Well,” she started, pausing for a second before she tossed the spent gel into the medical waste. “I came from a very long line of doctors. It was in my blood, I suppose. As for why the Alliance, and not some practice, it was for the adventure.”

“Adventure, eh?” He nodded slightly, more to himself than her. “We’re regular peas in a pod, then. Bet half the fun of being on this ship was seeing the unknown. Exploring and being goddamn heroes along the way.” He turned his head slightly, good eye meeting hers. “That about the right of it?”

She smiled wryly. “In a sense.” She drew her omni-tool and began cutting away damaged skin and sealing the wound with a finer precision than medi-gel could provide. “I don’t know if I ever set out to be the hero. A helper, perhaps, but not really the hero.” A fond smile crossed her face, thinking of the friends she helps throughout the years. Jeff, Shepard, and now… even this grizzled man. “What about you?”

“What, heroics?” He scoffed, a harsh sound that seemed more like a choke than a laugh. “Hero is about the last thing anyone would call me. Thorough, at best. Efficient. But sorry, love. No hero here.”

“I think you’re one,” she said simply.

“That so?” he said dryly.

“You were part of the team that took down the Collectors.” She swallowed hard, and with renewed purpose, gently turned the merc’s head. “Part of the team that saved the crew’s lives.” With a faint sizzle, she sealed the last of the wound. “My life.”

She stepped back and cleared her throat, admiring the handiwork before her. If he takes it easy, there would hardly be a scar. _A disappointment for him, to be sure_ , she thought, a tiny smile escaping her lips. As she smiled, she met his eyes, and was surprised to see an unreadable look on his face.

A second later, less than that, even, he broke into a leer and replied, “enough of a hero for that brandy?”

“Mr. Massani– Zaeed, I do believe you earned it.” She smiled openly back.

**Author's Note:**

> Zaeed's go-to meal for a touchy stomach is rice and scrambled eggs.


End file.
